Male Order-Excerpt

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An Excerpt from MALE
ORDER

Copyright (c) AMY
RUTTAN 2011

All Rights
Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

When the clock chimed ten in
the morning my heart beat a little bit faster. I ran to the front window and
peeked through the drapes, from the open window I could hear my neighbor’s
mailbox squeaking. I could also hear the sound of his iPod blasting out a
steady beat of hip-hop music, which kept him moving as he walked his route.
Usually I wasn’t this excited about the prospect of getting mail—that was until
about four months ago, when the mail started coming later.

I was very pleased to find out
why when I met the new mailman Bastien.

Letting the curtain I was
clutching drop back into place I ran to the entrance way and stood in front of
the mirror above the cherry wood table where I usually dumped my keys. I
straightened my tight, white halter top and ran a hand over my already-smooth
hair.

I can’t believe I’m going to
do this.

It was something I had been
fantasizing about for months, ever since Bastien had started delivering the
mail in my neighborhood. I had been living a somewhat cloistered life since my
divorce. I settled into a routine, and the days began to blur into one another.
It was the day I went out at eight to get my mail and it wasn’t there. It
freaked me out. It was part of my routine, it broke up my day.

So I waited in my sweats,
clutching a cup of coffee watching for Hank the mailman. Instead I learned that
morning Hank had retired and was replaced by a thirty-something, muscle-honed,
ebony Adonis.

The Adonis handed me my mail,
tipped his hat and said “Ma’am” in a honeyed southern drawl that made my toes
curl in my Crocs. His chocolate eyes seemed to take me, and I couldn’t help but
picture all the naughty things we could do together. Yet, in my shocked state
of mind, all I could do was push my glasses back up the bridge of my

nose,
take the mail and then run inside to hide my crazy, bag lady-type appearance
from him.

Bastien delivered the mail
around ten in the morning. He always had a bright smile and a suggestive look
in his eyes. I began to fantasize about him when I pleasured myself at night—it
was his face, his body I pictured thrusting into me.